Paradise City
by deathtoonormalcy
Summary: Dean and Cas explore their secret relationship, all without telling Sam. Destiel. Smut.


I do not own Supernatural.

* * *

.o0Paradise City0o.

There are many things that Dean does not know. Compared to me and my brothers he is not even a child. He is unimaginably young, only thirty human years that are even shorter than the long spans of time in heaven.

"Cas." He calls, nodding to me while he pushes bullets into his weapon. I shiver, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. Cas, he calls me. Unknowingly cutting off the part of my name which binds me to my father. Cas is the name he has given me, the name that my brothers mockingly call me know that I have fallen for the human. Both literally and figuratively.

"Safety. Trigger." Dean points, large shoulder bumping into my vessels diminutive one. Human emotions are strange. In all my years of living I have never felt so much as I do when in the presence of the elder Winchester. He claims me, naming me, touching me so subtly. The looks are by far the worse and the best. He was the first human I had seen in thousands of years. Those impossible, stubborn green eyes blazing up at me from the flames of hell. It had sprung forth a feeling of longing I had not felt for anyone beside my father. Dean could either send me floating with a simple praise or crashing down with a small remark.

"You get it?" He asks softly, as if I'm a child. Jealousy is a new feeling becoming annoyingly frequent as well. For all the looks he gives me, I have trouble deciphering them. While Sam and him can simply glance at each other and understand the others thoughts. When Dean looks at me, I feel helpless and lost. Desperately trying to piece together what he wants from me, what he needs. I can deny him nothing.

"I understand." I point out the two features obediently and he smiles. Dean's smile is beautiful. It's rare, only coming out when I do something to truly please him. But when it does, I can feel my stomach tremble and my palms break out in a sweat. Jimmy sometimes teases me, but as the days drift on. It is less and less Jimmy. We are fusing together in his body. My grace enveloping his devout soul. It is part of why angels rarely come to earth. Our grace is fragile. Already I have been tainted by Dean, the hand print on his shoulder is nothing compared to the brand he left on me internally.

"Good, never know when you might have to kick some ass the human way." He grins, tossing me the metal heap. I don't correct him that the metal would have nothing to do with human hand to hand combat, it must be another human reference I do not understand. I stare at my hands and frown. The hands do not belong to me, but I find myself wishing they do. So I may place them on Dean when I wish.

'Go ahead.' Jimmy's voice says. But it is too late. Our subconscious has fused together until I can barely distinguish ourselves from each other. We are nearly one. Both of us with the same feelings. Both with the same longings. I don't know which emotion belongs to who anymore.

'We cannot.' I lament.

"Cas," Dean calls. I look up immediately. Dean's standing at the door of the motel. A small sarcastic smile, casting a dimple on his stubbled cheek.

"You coming?" He asks. My chest clenches uncomfortably as I eagerly step forward.

"Of course." I murmur.

* * *

"Back on the road again! This time I _real-ize_!" Dean sings off key. Compared to the heavenly chorus his voice sounds more like raspy coughs, but still they bring warmth to my belly. Jimmy finds his voice almost as soothing as I do.

"God, will you shut up." Sam complains from the passenger seat. Their blasphemy has long since stopped affecting me. But I still find my skin prickle at the off handed use.

"Maybe I'll see you next time - _shit_!" Dean raises his singing tone, just to annoy his brother. When he spots me in the back seat he swerves.

"Cas, warn me or something!" He shouts, green eyes flickering in the mirror to meet mine.

"I apologize." I healed him in hell, our souls touched. The affects had not been much, but the more time we spent together the stronger the bond holds. I watched it evolve through how quickly he can sense my unannounced presence. His perception of me was more adept. The pleasure it sent through my finger tips caused me to bow my head in disgrace.

"You alright?" Dean demanded, glancing in the mirror with worried eyes. Humans were not supposed to be able to read angels well. But Dean had always been the exception to the rule.

"Yes." I answer, peering back. Sometimes we get lost in each other, these are my favorite times. In all my years of living, I will surely never recall anything so vividly as watching the ripples of emotion change on Dean's face when he realizes he is staring at me.

"Hey lover boy, eyes on the road." Sam snaps, pulling us both back into reality. Dean jerks the wheel of his beloved car back into the proper lane, I can see his cheeks burning red in the mirror. I study his ash blonde eyelashes as they flutter with embarrassment. I've never seen something so beautiful.

"Fuck you!" Dean hisses back, and Sam rolls his eyes.

"Did you come to tell us something, Cas? Or did you just want to ogle my brother for the rest of the night?" Sam says. I stumble to answer, unable to think of a proper response. Sometimes the Winchesters ask questions that are partial jokes, and I am unsure if this is one of those times. I am prepared to respond when Dean roughly punches his brothers shoulder. The attention quickly evaporates from me.

"Ow! Jerk!" Sam shouts, lower lip poking out. Dean's anger immediately tampers and he sends his brother an affectionate smile.

"Bitch." He says, and Sam chuckles shaking his head fondly. The jealousy that scratches down my ribs makes me fly away. Humiliation keeps me from seeking out Dean for several days.

* * *

"Where have you been, feathers?" Dean asks, blade tipped to my throat as he rounds a corner in his dark motel room. I should know better than to just appear in his room at night. Although, the silver knife can do nothing besides damage my vessel. The silver leaves my neck, but I can feel his strong chest at my back. My breathing comes out in short silent gasps, my heart races beneath my ribs.

"Heaven." I answer. He drops his hold on me and I frown, missing it immediately. Showing your wings, is something you only do to mates. Even I have never seen another angel fully exposed. Yet the second night we met, I had been shamefully showing Dean my true form. Desperate for his attention. His look of awe had been the first time I'd ever sinned. Both pride and lust had raged within me.

"Oh yeah? We could have used your help down here." He snarls, furious. I feel my shoulders sag in relief. I had been terrified he would not have noticed my absence.

"I apolog-"

"You've been saying that a lot lately." He huffs, running a hand through his hair. Sam is not in the motel room. Most likely he is with the demon girl. I remain silent, standing as Dean simply breathes. One hand resting on his hip, the other still fisted in his short hair.

"Don't-" He starts, sighing and inhaling a deep breath before continuing.

"Don't leave like that ... so suddenly, I mean." He finally gets out. The emotions break like a tidal wave in me. Too many to read and I nearly buckle from the sensation. Angels were meant to feel only two things, obedience and worship. Even those emotions were now being transferred to the man before me.

"I'm sorry." I say, unable to think of another response in the quite dark room. Dean does not think I can seem him peering at me from the corner of his eye.

"We were worried, thought you might have been plucked and fried at the KFC's." Dean smiles at the apparent joke. He likes to taunt me over my wings, the self consciousness is another emotion I am not used too.

* * *

Conjunx are the equivalent to human soul mates. Although the bond is even stronger, more refined. Conjunx can never be parted once they mate, and they are not simply together in the afterlife, they are together for eternity. Angels have long since been forbidden from preforming this ceremony of love and devotion. To have a Conjunx in casting aside God as your only love, and taking another.

"You've got to be kidding me?" Dean laughs, pulling me close. He is inebriated. The smell of cheap liquor on his tongue. I like him like this, he touches me freely. Uncaring of the social constructs of human society that tell him doing so is wrong. I push closer into his hold.

"It's true." I assure my mate. I've been marking him for awhile. Mating is permitted in heaven, it's a step below having a Conjunx. Whether Dean knows it or not, he too has been returning his scent. His soul has marked me with the smell of the impala's leather seats, lighter fluid, and ash. At first the markings had been out of necessity, to let demons know that Dean belonged to an angel. But when he had returned it subconsciously, his soul slipping over mine. I had never bothered to stop the intimate act.

"You can't tell me you've never even kissed someone. I thought you being a virgin was pathetic." He taunts, his rough cheek scraping mine.

"I've yet to press my mouth to a humans." I insist, staring at his lips. I've imagined it. Of course. But human touch is not what I longed for. I wanted to make Dean mine, I longed to mate with him fully. I imagine the warmth of his soul when I had barely grazed it in hell. It had been so warm, so pure. To slide against it, to claim it, it's what I desired more than anything. To have Dean for my own.

"Here." Dean's smiling as our lips smash together, making the kiss more teeth then mouth. That does not hinder electric pulses racing through my brain so viciously I think my vessel might be implode.

"Dean," I rasp, eyes going wide as I look up at him from were he has me tucked under his arm. We had just left a bar that smelt of leather and tobacco. We stumble down an alley to where the Impala is parked. I am hidden from spectators by Dean's broad shoulders. The goofy smile falls from his face. He presses his mouth to mine again, the alley silent. The cool air collides against my burning cheeks. I stand very still, as he moves around to the front of me to get better access. Strong, calloused fingers grip my chin, tilting it back.

"Man, you need chapstick." He complains. I can't withhold anymore. I grip the lapels of his worn leather jackets and pull him down. I stand on the tips of my toes, pardon, of Jimmy's toes. I push and push until Dean is pressed into the wall. He moans into my mouth, his green eyes dulled from alcohol.

"Wow." He grunts, my fists still gripping the front of his shirt. Lust is so heavy in my belly I'm not sure what to do. I abandon the Impala and fly to the hotel. My hands fumble against his chest, my eyes searching him. For direction, for orders. Anything to know what I'm to do. I've witnessed human intercourse, but this feels different and my mind blanks. I just _need_ to please him. His eyes dart to the bed, and he opens his mouth to speak. There is a noise at the door and Sam steps in, his face buried in a book.

"So, I found something at the library-" He begins. Dean slips away, and does not look at me for the rest of the night. I do not return for three weeks, no matter how often Sam prays to me. Dean does not call me back once.

* * *

"How is your mate?" Joshua asks in his quite voice. I'm crouched at his knee, pruning the gardens with him in silence.

"We have not spoken in three human weeks." I mutter, my knees pressed beneath my chin. I do not like returning to my celestial body. I prefer Jimmy's now, our molded minds can not comprehend my true form. Joshua too, prefers to stay in human shape in the gardens.

"The bond between you both is still strong." Joshua blinks, confused. He inhales, taking in my scent. I flush, brushing my thumb over a flower petal.

"He is ... He kissed me, when he did not mean to. I believe we are both too ashamed to confront the other." I inform, my voice soft.

"Why Castiel, are you being lustful?" Joshua asks, sounding amused. Any other angel would have said the words with contempt.

"I am, forgive me." I whimper, burying my face into my knees. Joshua is the closest to God, what Joshua knows God knows. My father knows of my sin, it shames me to my core.

"Castiel, love is nothing to be ashamed of. Raise your head." Joshua coaxes, strong hands touching my shoulder in comfort. I look up at him from my crouched position. I can sense the love, the glory spilling from him. Sometimes I do not believe him when he says he is not God.

"Go to your mate." Joshua says. I look away, my stomach tense.

"I can not-" But then I hear it. The strong voice of my beloved human praying my name.

_'Cas, get your ass down here.'_ Dean orders, and even though I am panicked. I can not never deny him.

"He is calling me." I say, and Joshua nods.

"Go." He smiles, and I do. I go to Dean with God's blessing.

* * *

"I told you to stop skipping out on me!" Dean growls, brows furrowed together as he stomps in front of me which I'm sure is meant to be intimidating.

"You did not pray-"

"Fuck praying, you know I want you here. So be here. I'm not going to drop to my knees and cry every time you take off." He snaps, obviously annoyed.

"I understand. Where is Sam?" I ask, looking around the motel for the first time. There is only one bed.

"Took off with Ruby." He growls. I nod, watching the way his lips lift with disgust off his white teeth. Those teeth had clinked against mine, those full lips had claimed my own.

"Dean." The broken response is not one I had intended to release. Dean looked up, shock on his perfect features.

"What's wrong, Cas?" He asks, gripping me by the shoulders and checking me over for injuries my coat may have hidden.

"I've missed you, very much." I admit. I want to tuck myself back beneath his arm, I long to press myself against him. But I can not. Jimmy urges me, saying he wishes the same thing. But to force the humans body onto Dean, I can not. No matter how much I wish to have those lips against my own again.

"A-Are you in trouble?" Dean asks, his deep voice nervous. I look up at him in confusion. His broad shoulders are hunched over, and his eyebrow is split open from his most recent hunting accident. I brush my fingers over his head and heal the blemish, he clicks his teeth in thanks.

"For what?" I ask, refusing to drop my hand no matter how much I know I should. My stomach is clenching tightly. My fingers tips feel soft against the scratchy stubble.

"For the ... kiss." Dean says softly, almost like he is afraid. I drop my hand and look away. Dean believes I should be punished for the action? The light, beautiful feeling quickly vanishes to be replaced by thick guilt nearly gagging me. Dean is disgusted by me.

"I was not punished, but I should have been." I say. Repulsed with myself. I move quickly to the other side of the room. Dean must not want me close. He drops into his chair, and takes a large gulp of alcohol.

"So, you regret it ...?" He continues, urging me to admit my sins. Jimmy is trying to tell me something, but I shove him away from my mind. For the moment it is only me and Dean. I need to apologize for taking advantage of him, for treating him so wantonly.

"I do. It will not happen again, Dean." I assure, bowing my head with disgrace. Dean takes another large drink, and looks out the window. A small frown tugs his lips down, and his brow furrows.

"Yeah, alright." Is his only reply.

* * *

For a very long time, my mate and I have a tepid relationship. At times Dean will forget how I had betrayed his trust, and will look at me the same way he had before the kiss. Other times he will shout at me, and not speak to me for weeks on end unless he needs something. The need for him grows. It grows and grows until it smothers me. Jimmy is gone now, he is a part of me. The human part of me, that says I should push Dean down and have my way with him. I refuse.

"What the hell was that?" Dean demands, glaring at me. I look up in confusion. I had kissed Meg. Unable to resist the feel of anothers lips. But it had been all wrong. Her cheeks had been too soft, her hair was coarse with human product. She had smelt too strongly like artificial perfumes. She was not Dean. But I had been eager to show him what he was missing, to make him as jealous as I felt every time he took a new women.

"A kiss." I say. Dean's jaw ticks, and I know I have annoyed him. I look away and he grips my chin, forcing my gaze on him.

"You can kiss a demon, but you can't kiss me?" He demands. I blink in confusion.

"I do not understand." I say quickly, my own brow furrowed. He does not respond. Just storms away.

* * *

"So, whats the deal with you and Cas?" Sam asks Dean. Neither of them have realized my presence. They are staying at Bobby's home. The older man had already gone to bed, leaving the brothers to do the research on the demonic signs.

"What do you mean?" Dean says, but even I can tell his voice is tight. I press my back against the kitchen wall, even though I'm invisible. My heart races, my brow begins to perspire.

"You guys seem a little ... off." Sam says, I can practically see the human shrug. Although I do think he and Dean are too close, too codependent. I can't help but feel affection for the enormous human. He would die for Dean, and that is enough for me to accept him as kin.

"I don't know what the hell you're talking about." Dean says, and his tone is barbed. Annoyed. He does not want to talk about me. Especially to his beloved brother. I return to heaven for days, until Sam begs me to come back.

* * *

'Cas, get down here. Dean's hurt.' Sam had said, voice panicked in my head. My brothers and sisters had held me at bay, forcing my presence in heaven. As soon as my business was done, I rushed down to earth. Pushing my wings as hard as they could. I caused an earthquake, my landing as so forceful. The house is quite, and dark. There is a creak behind me, and just before I can wheel around a hand is clamped around my throat.

"I thought we agreed you wouldn't visit the mile high club for weeks on end." Dean's voice is gravel against my ear. His warm, moist breath puffs against my collar and I feel my legs tremble.

"I apolo-"

"If you say sorry, one more time. I swear to God, I'll wring your scrawny little neck." He hisses, tightening his hold until I can't respond. My blood rushes to my head, my fingers tingle and clench. He will surely leave a bruise on my vessels pale throat. I won't heal it, not for days. A reminder that Dean has touched me.

"Dean, _please_." I choke. Instantly the hands hurting are holding. His hold is warm, solid. Comforting in ways I can't comprehend. He is my mate. His arms cross over my chest, pulling me close.

"I keep thinking ..." He voice cuts off, snapping like a human bone. I feel his nose brush my neck and he presses his face there. Thick eyelashes tickling my vessels sensitive skin.

"I keep thinking one day, you're just going to vanish." He says. The room is so beautifully quite. Sam and Bobby are not in the house. I then sense the way Dean's body weight is all on one side. I turn around.

"You're injured." I gasp. A plaster casing is wrapped around Dean's leg. He grips my shoulders.

"Broke my damn leg, some witch thought it would be funny." He sneered. I grip his thigh, and he yelps. I let my grace knit together the fractured skeleton. Even mending the muscle that had been torn. Dean looks down, pulling out a knife to hack off the cast with glee.

"You're the best!" He says giddily, putting some weight on the limb and groaning in relief. Guilt flushes through me. How long had I been away, how long had he suffered?

"How long?" I ask.

"Nearly a week. And let me tell you, it friggin' sucked." He let's out another pleasure filled noise that makes my loins ache and pulse. He slides a strong hand over his thigh, which I had gripped. My grace is still thrumming at the brief contact with his soul. I want to run away, to hide in shame. But this time I do not. I stay beside Dean as he chatters incessantly. My troubles eventually dampen.

* * *

I stare down at the concrete, dampness seeping through the cloth around my knees.

"Hey, it's gonna be alright." Dean whispers, arm heavy and reassuring on my shoulder. Sam is watching us, still out of breath from the fight.

"My father has abandoned me." I croak, voice hoarse from a heavy feeling in the back of my throat. My eyes burn.

"Join the club. I know all about dead beat fathers." The words in themselves are filled his usual confident nonchalance but they are tender, sad. I nod, pressing my face into the elder Winchester's collar. I am shocked when he does not push me away.

* * *

Dean kisses me. He is not intoxicated. He is not feverish, he is not confused. He kisses me as I question him on the couch in Bobby's living room about the old western movie he is showing me.

"I do not understand. Wearing blankets is customary?" Dean does not answer, he moves forward and presses him full mouth to mine. The kiss is careful, loving. Nowhere near the passion he had displayed the night he had been inebriated. It's over nearly as soon as it starts. I sit touching my lips for the entirety of the film. Feeling them tingle from the press of Dean. Dean ignores me, when I manage the strength to glance at him he is smirking.

* * *

Dean kisses me a lot. He never mentions it. Never talks about why he does it. What the purpose of each action is. But it happens, frequently. Sometimes the kisses are as we exit the Impala, Sam's back only a few feet away. Sometimes they are at Bobby's on the back porch, as Bobby digs into an ancient textbook. I measure each one, studying it and replaying it in my mind to keep as a precious memory. The kisses are sometimes deep, sexual and lust ridden. Other times they are so gentle and light I think I have imagined it. But Dean does not change his treatment of me. He is still friendly of course, but he does not 'flirt' as the doctors on Dr. Sexy MD do. He does not whisper heated compliments in my ear. He does not tell me he loves me.

* * *

I grunt as I'm shoved into a janitors closet.

"Dean, we are supposed to be searching for a poltergeist." I complain. Dean smiles into my mouth, kissing at my frowning lips.

"Yeah, well we got time. Besides, who needs four hunters and an angel to take out one friggin' ghost." He smirks, finger hooking under my chin and tilting my face back to give his larger frame better access to my own. Rufus, Bobby, and Sam were all searching the massive abandoned Asylum for the ghost that been haunting it's halls. I had joined them simply out of boredom. Heaven was silent, the quite before the storm, as Dean would say.

"Dean, we should-" My words are cut off my his tongue. Sweeping over my lips to moisten them before entering. I groan softly, stumbling back in the enclosed area and dragging the taller man with me. My back hits the wall and Dean grins.

"I didn't hurt you, did I Cas?" He taunts. I whirl him around, roughly slamming him into the wall. He grunts happily, green eyes shining in the dim room. I kiss at his throat, reveling in the hickies he allows me to place there, just below his collar where Sam won't see.

"Easy, Cas." Dean groans, oddly shaped legs shaking. Sam commented frequently on Dean's 'Bowed' legs. I found them endearing. Pushing Dean down, I straddle his hips, eager to please. Dean tries gentle in his love making, careful and considerate as if I am a human woman. I am impatient, needy. Quickly Dean is learning he does not need to be gentle. I am in a mans vessal. I pretend I do not want his touch, but I long for it. I yearn.

"Dean, please." My voice is thick. It had been days since out last copulation. Bobby, Sam, and Rufus had been planning at the house making it hard to sneak off.

"Thought we were supposed to be hunting poltergeist." Dean chuckles, already cupping my vessels fleshy bottom. I keen, arching my back like a feline and bumping my chest against Deans. He growls in response, nipping at the tender flesh on my neck.

"It can wait." I nearly sob. Dean had taken me already, in the back of the Impala a few weeks ago, he had stretched me open with his fingers, his tongue. He had filled me, and spent his seed in my body. We had consummated our relationship. I wanted it constantly, to be close to him. To hear him gasping my name, repeating it like a prayer.

"Cas-" He breathes into my ear, broad shoulders tenting around me as I pull him free from his jeans. My trousers are already lowered, revealing myself to him. He touches me. I'm already loose. His hands slide up my back and I hiss. He finds the glands, right between my shoulders blades and presses insistently. The honey colored oil seeps down my spine, sliding between my flesh.

"Angel lube, rocks." Dean grins as I nearly collapse against him. Already over sensitized. My wings beg for release but the room is too small, we will be surrounded by my appendages.

"Dean, please." I beg, and he kisses me. His wet fingers sliding over my lips in a filthy way that makes my knees tremble. I straddle him fully, sliding my wet erection against his. His head falls back, green eyes vanish beneath ash blonde eyelashes. Annoyed at his seemingly endless patience, I grip his erection, impaling myself. We both scream our pleasure.

* * *

Dean grunts, shrugging me off.

"Stop being clingy, Cas." Dean snaps, glaring at me. I bow my head.

"I apologize." It's a new habit, touching Dean. Ever since we began mating. Dean had been the one to begin it, small brushes of our hands. Feet touching under restaurant tables. Although, admittedly, Dean was a bit more discrete in his actions. Sam rolls his eyes at us. He does not yet know the extent of our relationship. He believes we are 'friends'.

"Anyways, look at this Dean. Wendigo in North Carolina." Sam says, blowing a tendril of hair from his forehead.

"What? We haven't hunted one of those in awhile." Dean says almost fondly. His fingers brush my bottom as he passes me, he bends over the computer, sending me a mocking look over his shoulder. I flush and vanish, just to spite him.

* * *

Dean has me pinned beneath him. I'm enraged unable to throw him off due to my ever decreasing angel 'mojo'. Dean kisses me, I bite at him in fury and he grunts.

"Didn't take you for the kinky type, I like it." He smiles against my mouth. I taste some blood from his lips but it doesn't seem to bother him. Not that a tiny cut would, the human had lived his entire live with almost constant bruises or wounds.

"Release me." I snarl, exposing my wings. They roll out onto the floor in my fury. Dean strokes them lovingly, easily pinning my wrists into his large grasp. I try to retract my wings, but Dean is so eagerly stroking them.

"Why are you mad?" Dean asks softly, nosing into the tufts of hair above my ear. His breath is warm, smells lightly of liquor. I struggle.

"I am not angry. I wish to be released." I snap, he kisses my forehead, an action he has become fond of.

"I'm not letting you go until you tell me why you're pissed." He says, somehow sliding between my thighs as if he belongs there. My body almost instinctively relaxes beneath him. He is the only human I know intimately, the only being. It's only natural for me to be eased by the dense muscle of his form pressed close to mine.

"I am not upset." I insist, which is ridiculous because I am. I am very upset, but I do not wish to admit it because I am humiliated.

"Come on, baby. Tell me." Dean smirks, he's enjoying himself. Enjoying this irritatingly domestic banter.

"I am not an infant!" I rebuke, and Dean burst into warm laughter. His large shoulders are shaking, his chest rumbling against mine. My body reacts accordingly, loosening further under the warm breaths being puffed against my neck.

"Cas, tell me what's wrong. So I can apologize and we can have makeup sex." He is insistent kissing at the most sensitive spot on my neck he has long since recorded in his mind. He returns to it frequently, and an almost permanent mark has been sucked into the pale flesh there.

"I do not know how to explain ..." My voice was small, hesitant. Human emotions bloomed within me daily. Dean leans back, resting on his forearms so he can look at me.

"Try." He urges. Green eyes glittering with mischief. I look away before meeting his gaze again.

"My chest hurts." I say slowly. Surely he will understand. Dean's brow furrows, apparently he does not recognize this human emotion. It is one that I am all to familiar with.

"My chest hurts when I see you with women. It does not go away until you kiss me." I admit. Dean stares at me for a long moment, not saying anything. We are close, our breaths mingled together.

"You're jealous?" He questions, eyebrow lifted. I huff.

"Of course not. The bond we forged when I raised you from perdition could not be at risk over a female stranger." I try and convince myself. Dean's trying not to smile.

"Sure sound's like you're jealous." Dean mocks. I open my mouth to object but he is kissing me now, cradling the back of my neck as if I might pull away. As if I would ever pull away.

"I don't do the whole relationship thing." Dean reminds. I nod, because I am aware. I am more aware than anyone that sometimes Dean will leave the bar with a women, hand wrapped low on her curvy hip. I know more than anyone that he will speak to them lowly, whisper to them tenderly in the darkness. I know he will love them, even if only for that night. But he will, he will treat them with respect even if he voices otherwise. He loves women, he loves making them feel good. I know he loves their soft bodies, and even if he cares for me he will never love me like he loves a woman. I know.

"I know."

* * *

"Sam will wake." I hiss to Dean. But the human is insatiable. He tugs me down into the bed, throwing a glance over his shoulder. His massive sleeping brother is snoring lightly, face turned to the ceiling.

"Not if you keep your trap shut." Dean says, pulling me below the covers. My trenchcoat is pulled off, but the rest of my clothes are left on. Dean unbuckles my belt, kissing me.

"Dean, _please_." I flush, humiliated that I would allow this human to shame me so. But if Dean wishes it, I'll do it.

"Relax, Sam could sleep through a stampede." Dean urges. I feel the heat of his erection rest against mine and I let out a small sob. Dean groans in response, tucking me beneath his body. We grind against each other, my hands grappling beneath his shirt over the freckled skin of his back.

"Shhh, Cas." Dean murmurs softly, I choke back a moan and nod. Pressing my face into his chest.

"Roll over." He instructs. I hesitate, so Dean moves me. Pushing me onto my stomach, kissing my exposed throat.

"You're beautiful." He says, and I flush at my own vanity when I keen, arching back against him. Dean rubs his thumb over the knobs under my skin, coaxing my glands without actually pressing into them.

"I can't, Sam-" I croak. Dean is ruthless in his ministrations, he keeps stroking my spine. An action I know means he wishes for me to release my wings, so he may bury his face in them, use them as anchors as he pounds into my body. I tremble.

"Castiel." He growls demanding. I comply, letting my wings spill out of grace, filling the room. I bend my left limb awkwardly trying to keep it from blanketing over the younger Winchester who is still snoring softly. Dean strokes his fingers into my sleek feathers, the white was burned at the edges from where Dean had resisted me initially in Hell. When I told Dean of this, he now pets the singed feathers lovingly, treating the ugly scars as if they were ones of beauty.

"Don't flap around." Dean reminds, as my entire form shutters when he slips my trousers down my hips. He presses into the glands. Using the oil that gathers in the small of my back as lubricant. He works me open with a single finger, moving to two.

"I'm ready." I nearly curse. But the one thing Dean is patient in, I am not. Irritated, I rock back, using my knees as leverage. Dean chuckles, holding my hip down with one hand, and preparing me with the other. I flex my wings, bumping into Sam. Sam grips my feathers, brow furrowing in his sleep.

"Dean-" I squeak, voice pitched unusually high in strain. Sam has hold of my most sensitive feathers, the tips of my wing is bundled in his hand. He rolls over, stretching out my wing to cover him and presses the sensitive feathers to his cheek. His breath is hot against the muscle.

"Just leave it, he won't wake up." Dean says, seemingly uncaring that is brother has me in nearly an erotic hold as his own. I nod. Feeling Sam's breath warm, spread over the twitching appendage.

"Ready?" Dean asks. I give a quick nod before I am filled, filled full of Dean. I groan, wings doing exactly what Dean instructed not to. I flap, a response to mating to show Dean I am his. Sam grunts, eyes cracking open. Dean. I retract my wings painfully, stuffing them into my grace as Dean pulls the blankets to hit my slighter form under him.

"Dean, you awake?" Sam asks, sitting up. I'm flushed beneath the heavy motel comforter. Dean still refuses to pull out, his erection still stuffed into my twitching hole. My thighs tremble against the bed and I grip the sheets. Dean doesn't respond, pretending to be asleep as he just breathes above me. Still fully immersed in me. Sam gets up, going to the bathroom. He doesn't bother shutting the door all the way and I can still see him through the crack. Dean picks up were he left off, gripping my hips in a nearly bruising hold and thrusting with short powerful movements.

"Dean, your brother-" I whisper, perhaps Dean has not seen the open door. But the elder Winchester doesn't respond. He groans softly into my neck, gripping my thigh and placing it higher on the bed. My vessel is very flexible, and Dean takes full advantage. He cups the soft flesh of my thigh and squeezes it. He pulls all the way out, and a wet sucking noise fills the room. As if my body doesn't want to release him, even if only for a moment.

"Dean?" Sam asked, leaning back and peering into the room. Dean stills, his body heavy and warm on top of me. I hear the toilet flush and Sam comes back into the room, collapsing on his bed and rolling away. Dean beings a devastatingly slow pace, of him barely placing the tip of penis into my hole before slipping out. I dig my fingernails into his forearms, but he holds me still. Teasing my hole until finally Sam begins snoring again. Dean pushes back into my fully, uncaring if his brother hears now because loud wet smacks of out lovemaking fill the room. My wings spill back out, Dean grips the top of them using them as leverage as he begins his punishing pace. But Sam doesn't wake, I realize too late that I can force him to stay in sleep when Dean finishes in me. Grinning against my cheek as he catches his breath.

"Told you he wouldn't wake up." Dean smiles mischievously.


End file.
